by Grayson Crew
I hear the sound of gunfire again. Each round sounds a little louder.
“Definitely can’t stay here,” I say.
Just then a projection of Jael flashes in front of a small path off this beach--more of a dent in the brush.
Ana moves toward the projection, “They saved our life last night, maybe they’ll save our life today.”
The projection phases out when we reach it. Not too far ahead we see the rest of the rushing stream. We head into the jungle. Leaves twice the size of me fan out among the tangled brush.
Pain
Patches of white flowers line the water’s edge for the first hour or so, but then the stream thins to nothing. Multiple projections of Jael appear rapidly in a straight line.
In synchronization she drops to the ground, screaming for help. My gut twists. I run forward toward her, but she disappears when I reach her.
I keep running to the next projection, each flashing out like a dying bulb when I reach them.
I look back to Ana. She’s clambering through the brush, pressing her hands against her temples. “They’re getting worse. It hurts so bad.”
The Whispers. I didn’t even notice them. But now I hear a hissing static of words. The chaos of sound creeps like a wedge into my head, splitting it and making it throb in pain. I listen for Hiro’s voice among the mess.
Finally, I hear him. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it’s his voice. The headache lessens. Jael’s projections are gone.
Before us spreads a grove of trees with yellow and pink fruits. They’re too low to pick so I climb up and shake a few down for Ana to catch.
When she peels off the skin, juice and mist spray out. She hands me half. When I bite into the fleshy fruit, the juice drips down my chin. It’s tangy and sour.
Ana keeps rubbing her temples.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Just the Whispers . . . feels like they’re splitting my head.
We continue deeper into the jungle, following the projections as they appear throughout the day. As twilight comes, Ana’s headaches are getting worse.
She can barely keep moving. I lean her against me and help carry her forward.
“I can’t do this,” she says. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s shaking.
“I hear water nearby,” I say. “I’m going to look ahead and find where it is, it’s our best chance to be near the flowers.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she begs.
“If I carry you it will take longer and you can’t keep going on your own. I’ll be right back.”
“Aren’t they . . . hurting you too?”
They should be, but as long as I focus on Hiro, it’s bearable.
“They’re bad,” I say, “But I’m okay. I’ll be right back.”
I race off the path and into the dark brush. Following the sound of water I find the start of another stream, or maybe it’s the same one.
I go back to Ana and carry her to the stream, then lay her down. The Whispers are still strong, but they soften just a little.
“There must be flowers somewhere near the water,” she continues. “We have to get to them. . . please.” Her fingers dig into my arm. Tears drop down my shirt.
“I’ll find them,” I say. And I do.
We rest in an alcove under a tree that rises to the canopy where the monkeys are howling. Green and white flowers surround us. We lay among them and the Whispers all but disappear.
The Haven
The smoke has mostly moved on from last night. The moon is a cut circle shining through a break in the canopy. Not too far away it looks like the brush clears even more.
“I’m just going to check out the area,” I say. “Make sure we’re safe here for the night.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Of course.”
Blue moonlight colors the flowering bed that spreads through the clearing we reach. A sweet smell like honey fills the breeze. Ana steps forward to the edge of the flowers, her hair blowing forward.
“West, you need to come see this.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
Reaching her I follow where she’s pointing. At first I don’t see anything, but as I focus I can see a tall shadow reaching into the low clouds.
Far below, in a cove along the coast is the outline of a tower walled in by a cliff face.
The flowers stream in a path toward the cove and the cliff’s edge.
“I didn’t know it was real,” Ana says.
“You know what this is?”
“I mean, I knew the stories. But I didn’t really believe it.”
“What is it?”
“The bell tower. Each haven has one--at least that’s the theory.”
So there’s more than one?
“Originally, they were monuments of refuge, but then the Whispers came. Somewhere inside is supposed to be a cure, but I don’t think anyone’s ever actually found it.”
I think of Jael. Maybe she’s still alive, maybe she knew about the tower. Maybe she’s trying to get to the cure.
Sleep
Under the shade of a tree, we lay out among the flowers. The smell of honey and mint mixes with leftover smoke and cinder.
Ana falls asleep first. I watch her breathe. Sliding closer without touching I think of holding her in my arms.
I don’t want to be alone.
In the morning we’re up with the sunrise and moving downhill along the path of flowers.
The Tower
Hours later, we approach a break at the top of the cliffs with a path hardly wider than me. We squeeze through. It descends steeply, cutting a path from the top of the cliffs, to their base.
When we get to the end, the sunlight gets a greenish hue, mist rises from the ground and we hear the damp trickle of water.
We emerge from the split to find ourselves in a valley, with the tower in the center and the cliffs in a horseshoe around it.
The tower rises past the height of the cliffs, it’s surrounding wall blocks our view of the sea. Water tumbles from its highest tier and pours down the sides, spreading out into veining streams that run to the coast.
Flowering vines smother every column of stone from the base to the top. Doves scatter away from our footsteps.
The flapping of wings from thousands of birds fills the silence. Ana is swept into a cloud of feathers and petals.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
“Yes.”
“You okay? You look a bit pale,” she asks me.
“I’m fine.”
Continuing down the trail, hundreds of crumbling arches make a canopy over us. The path winds like a serpent. Emerging from the arches, we’re faced with a cracking granite wall, rising higher than Violin’s terrace at the Estate.
Ana rubs her hand along the wall, pulling back vines with purple blooms. “There are carvings.”
I brush my hand along the wall. It’s cool to the touch, like a tapestry of granite. Images, too ruined to make out, are carved into every inch of the wall.
A projection of Jael appears to our left. She’s on the ground, pulling herself forward with one arm, while gripping her stomach with the other. The projection disappears.
“She looks hurt,” says Ana.
“We have to find the gate.”
Enter the Gates
Moving as quickly as possible, we stumble along the perimeter of the wall. Snakes and critters scurry and slither away from our heavy footsteps.
Arches rise over the widening path. The canopy of trees opens, letting sunlight pour in. In front of us looms a shimmering gate.
White-golden light radiates from the gold doors like the sun. Doves fly far above to the tops of the gate turning into tiny specks as they continue up the tower.
We pass through, entering a courtyard. Statues, columns and gardens create what feels like a maze.
Far ahead, in the courtyard's center, is the base of the tower. Even from over here, its shadow casts us
in shade.
“Do you hear that?” asks Ana.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear men shouting. It’s getting closer. We speed up and move toward the base of the tower.
I hear a man shouting commands. A guttural scream rises above the other noise. Then silence.
We approach the base. Above us, the tower rises into the clouds.
In front of us is another gate leading to a staircase that descends into darkness.
Jael’s projection reappears. She’s laying spread out on the ground, not moving.
“She must be inside,” says Ana.
In the corner of my eye I see men in Khaki uniforms rushing into the courtyard.
Ana pulls me forward and under the shadow of the gate.
“Settlers,” she says.
“What are they doing here?” I whisper back.
“I don’t know. But after seeing what they did at the beach . . . we need to stay away.”
They’re not carrying guns like they were back at the beach, but I see knives and machetes in their hands.
We pass under the gate and into the dark. Feeling along the walls on either side with both arms, I descend as fast as possible, stumbling down a stair before catching myself.
The staircase continues to descend. Twenty steps, thirty, forty, I stop counting at a hundred.
When the ground levels out, I see light at a doorway ahead.
Inside the Haven
Stepping through the entrance, sunlight ricochets around me. A domed ceiling, plated in golden mirrors, shines light over what looks like a coliseum.
Balconies overgrown with moss are stacked in a horseshoe around the center. Green and white flowers—like the ones Ana used for the tea that protected me--drip like rain from vines, thousands of petals swirl down with arrows of light from above into an endless darkness below. Don’t slip.
We’re on one of the upper balconies. Far below are bridges--barely wide enough for one person to stand on--spanning across the darkness to a platform in the center of the coliseum.
In the middle of the platform, I see what looks like a person, sprawled out. Dark raven hair spreads around the body. Behind her is a glittering pool, a fountain of golden water.
I hear the settlers somewhere to the right. I pull Ana back into the shadows. A few men come out of a balcony not far away.
“That’s where we need to go,” says one of them, pointing toward Jael.
What do they want with her?
“We won’t make it in time. They’re coming up right behind,” says another man.
A cluster of shadowy figures appear and disappear in the balconies to the left.
A chill rushes from my feet to my head. My pulse speeds up.
“If we go back, we die,” a man says, “Either by shadow, or by Whisper. Take your pick. Getting to the fountain is our only hope.”
“And how do we get down there? Climb?”
“Retrace, find a way. Just get moving.”
They disappear into a dark hall, footsteps bouncing in echoing waves around the coliseum.
We have to get to Jael before they do.
“What do we do?” asks Ana while clenching her dress in her fists.
Find a way down. “Was there another passage to take us down? We’ve got to get to those bridges.”
“If they get there too . . . it’s a death trap,” Ana says.
Kettle’s projection flashes in front of us.
“We can’t leave her,” she says before flashing out.
“We better move fast,” says Ana.
It’s All Come to This
Back in the hall we take a staircase down. I hear footsteps around the corner ahead. Pulling Ana with me I press against the wall and hold my finger to my lips.
Men are shouting, then, there are screams. Silence.
Pressed next to Ana, I feel her heavy breathing. Then, one footstep. Just one.
We slide back, trying to back away from whatever is around the corner.
The footsteps pick up again, but they’re getting fainter. It’s going the other way.
“Let’s go another way,” says Ana with quivering eyes.
I nod.
After several more corridors and staircases, we come to what seems to be the lowest we can go.
Following the most lit corridors we finally come to an arching doorway that opens to the coliseum.
In front of us is one of the bridges--one spoke among a semi-circle of bridges that connect to the platform in the center.
Above and to the left, shadowy forms are gathering, climbing down the balconies and toward the bridge below them.
We’re still hidden by the columns and arch above us. I look at the chasm in front of me and the narrow bridge I’ll have to cross to get to Jael.
Settlers rush out from an exit to the right, pausing before the bridge in front of them.
What do they all want? Is it Jael? The fountain? It doesn’t make any sense. Even if I make it to her, then what? Come back? The shadows will kill me if the men don’t. What about Ana?
She’s looking at the bridge. Her face is pale and her body is shaking.
“Stay here,” I tell her.
Her lips are trembling, “Don’t be stupid.”
No time to argue, no time to think. The settlers are already rushing out onto the bridge.
I step into the light of the coliseum and count down from three. Ana squeezes my arm quickly then lets go.
I run.
Showdown
Floating petals fall around me as I rush out. Muffled shouts from the men bounce around the coliseum. I look to see how far they are but I almost slip so I focus back on the bridge under me.
My legs burn. The men are moving faster. Energy rushes through me, my muscles scream. Halfway there.
A shadow flashes in the corner of my vision. On the bridge to the left, converging onto the platform, shadowy figures pour in, covering Jael from my vision.
It’s too late.
I stop.
Settlers are rushing toward the shadows with daggers and machetes raised. They flood onto the platform.
A storm of screams come from the men and roars like madness from the shadows.
Looking behind me, I see Ana standing a few steps onto the bridge. She’s gesturing for me to come back.
I look back to the shadows and settlers. The shadows have lined up in a barricade around Jael.
More settlers are coming onto the platform, which is scattered with dead men.
The shadows haven’t noticed me. I look back at Ana, then back to the platform.
Kettle’s projection reappears.
“We can’t leave her behind.”
VI
Jael
The Chosen
I don’t have a plan, I don’t have a weapon. I don’t even have hope, but I can’t leave her to die. I run to the platform.
The wall of shadows grows larger, but the settlers are still trying to hack their way through. A few shadows fall. For each one that falls, another seems to rush in and replace.
At the end of the bridge, I make my first step onto the platform, ready to charge straight through the settlers and into the shadows.
If I bolt fast enough, they might not even notice me and I can slide through. Before I can take a second step, something cold rips into my side.
Sharp pain sears from my kidneys and up my spine. I fall to the ground clutching the wound. Warm liquid pours over my hands.
A settler is over me, raising his machete. I roll to the side, hearing the clang of steel against granite.
I pull myself up and move toward the wall of shadows again, but collapse onto my knees after a few steps. My vision is blurring.
Crawling forward, a settler tramples over me, knocking the wind out of my gut. I gasp for breath while darkness circles my vision.
With every bit of grit and blood I have I pull myself up and clamber toward the shadows.
